Return of the Dovahkiin
by Crystal Kingston
Summary: A Bosmer and a Redguard. One is on the run from her past the other is on a journey to find herself, both end up in Helgen as prisoners. What happens when they are forced to work together to survive? What happens when one of them turns out to be the Dovahkiin? Rated T for Violence.
1. Escaping Death

**Chapter 1**

**Atala**

_Sun's Dusk 18__th__, __4E 201_

The prison smells of mold, mildew, rot, decay, and other smells that I'd rather not identify. The metal cuffs on my wrists cut away at my skin, leaving it raw and tender. They are so tight that my blood soaked flesh can't slip through them. I guess this really is the end. At least I can be thankful that I'm not suspended in the air like some of the other prisoners. My arms are still held up by chains but at least I can semi-comfortably kneel on the ground. I want to bury my face into my hands and just cry but I'm not going to give the Imperial scum the satisfaction of seeing me defeated. If there is one thing I'm going to do before I pass into the void, its die with my dignity still intact. There is only one thing I wish I could change, though. I've been marked a Stormcloak dog in Skyrim and that is all people will remember me as.

It's nothing more than a lie. I never was and never will be a stormcloak.

I should have known. I should have done my research before accepting the contract. Old Ralph, my mentor, would have my head had the Stormcloaks not captured me first. Had I just looked a little deeper into who my contractor was and what my target really was I wouldn't be here now. I would have realized that I was being hired by a Stormcloak general to steal information from an Imperial scout. I should have realized it the moment he told me my target was in Helgen. Ralph warned me to stay out of the war that it would only lead to my death. He was right. He's always right.

Sinking deeper into the shadows of my cell I could only imagine what my fate would be. That is, after the Imperials realize that I really don't have any information. They've been beating me senseless in their interrogations. I already told them I didn't realize who I was contracted by and what I really was stealing. But of course they refuse to listen to a word of it. Perhaps they are just bored and need something to do. Helgen hardly sees any action as the Stormcloaks wouldn't dare to go up against this impenetrable fort. No one has ever escaped and hardly any enemy comes out alive. Even the town's people who live here sometimes fear for their life. I almost cry out when my sore back brushes against the cold dungeon wall through my thin, barely modest prison shirt. It hurts, but the cool stone feels soothing at the same time. It feels so bruised from the whippings I've recieved. So far I've been lucky. They don't intend on me bleeding to death so I haven't received the cat whip, only a thick leather strap. But I can tell my time is near; there has been a great stir in the fort. The guards are all restless, some even seem excited. I've heard some distant chatter about a plot to finally capture Jarl Ulfric, the leader of the Stormcloaks. I partly feel like rejoicing with them. I favor neither side of the war, the Imperials less so, but if one of the leaders die then so does their army and that means an end to this pointless war. Skyrim can finally go back to the way it was and once again have some momentary peace.

I suddenly hear one of the dungeon gates open and the clanking of marching soldiers echoing down the hall. Cell doors started opening and captured Stormcloaks are being escorted away. Ah, so death finally comes. I just wish I could have at least seen mum one more time before I died. No, this is not the time to be thinking of home. If I do, I'll surly break down and shame myself in front of the Imperials. As I hear them approach my cell my face turns to stone and I shut out all my emotions. At least I'll put one last thing Ralph taught me to practice. I'm sure he'd at least be proud of me for that. But no, I can't think of Ralph either. I shove him in with my emotions and instead focus on the guards coming into my cell. One roughly grabs my shackled wrists while the other removes the chains. The moment the shackles are off they are quickly replaced with hard leather. Funny, it's not like I have any chance of escaping, especially in my malnourished condition. So why they feel like it will take three of them to escort me out I'll never know.

They lead me through the dark corridors and outside into the real world. Being a prisoner for so long really takes a toll on my eyes. I've grown so accustomed to the dark that as soon as the light hits my face I have to screw my eyes shut. As the guards lead me away I begin to wonder if I contracted vampirism somehow but eventually I'm able to pry my eyes open and view my surroundings. They've led me to a group of other Stormcloak soldiers, some in rags, like myself, others in full blown uniforms. Next to one of the towers I can see Stormcloaks being loaded off a prisoner cart and being placed in a line in front of one of the scout towers. Like sheep being led to the slaughter house. Suddenly I spot someone dressed in regal clothing with not only his hands being bound but a gag around his mouth too. His eyes travel over every Stormcloak here, observing them and looking at each one with pride and his eyes holding a fierce sadness in them like a general wanting to give his soldiers a farewell speech before his death. A few of the Stormcloaks murmur a few words to him before bowing their heads and returning to their place in line. It's at that moment that I finally realize who he is.

Ulfric Stormcloak.

They really did it. They caught him. The mighty rebel leader defeated and humiliated brought low to face the wrath of the Imperials and their judgment. I originally thought of Ulfric as a coward and a fool for his crimes. But I should have known better then to trust the rumors. They said Ulfric shouted the High King to his death instead of facing him in real combat. They marked him a coward and traitor. But seeing him now, I can fully understand how he was able to inspire half the county to follow him. The way he looks at every soldier here with admiration and pride, the way he is able to face General Tullius who now spits in his face without flinching, and the way he still looks powerful and intimidating in his current defeated state. The man almost has me in a trance before the sound of a sickening crack and a loud thump reaches my ears and I finally remember what this really is. An execution.

* * *

**Sibrii**

I watch as my comrade's head rolls to the ground, blood seeping out of his now lifeless body and into the ground. I can't hold back the fear on my face nor stop the blood from flowing out of it. I know I must look as pale as a sheep but I can't help it. Why did I ever join the Stormcloaks? My dull life in Windhelm promised me nothing and my mother only wanted to see me marry some rich noblemen and bare his children. I wasn't ready to settle down. The city was all I ever knew because we never traveled. Father too frail and weak to make any journey and my mother always dotted on him and I. We hardly ever stepped feet outside the gates save for the rare occasions when father was feeling well enough to take me out to see the Khajit caravans and their wares. I would buy all sorts of silly trinkets from them and beg to hear stories about the whereabouts of Skyrim and tales of their homeland, Elsweyr. They would always spin elaborate tales so real that I could see every detail in my mind. The warm sands of their homeland, the rolling ocean waves in an endless sea, their long and treacherous journey here, I drank in every word always hungry for more.

Then one day I joined the Stormcloaks. I was promised a life of adventure and travel. I was inspired by Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak after hearing one of his long winded speeches. The man was much younger than I thought he would be, yet his eyes held the heaviness of someone much older and wiser. I shuddered as I saw pain blossom in his eyes as he spoke of battle and hardship in his recruitment speech. He believed Skyrim was crumbling from the inside out and it would take a strong leader to pull us back together. Our once proud nation would be great again with him leading us. I find myself starring at our great leader here in the middle of Helgen as he faces his death, still holding his head up high and proud. I've never felt more confident in my decision to follow him.

I was so surprised that he wasn't the first one to die at the hands of the merciless executioner. General Tullius has been waiting for years to capture Jarl Ulfric, the rightful High King of Skyrim. Now he has his chance and what does he do? Drags it out. Takes his time. Allows Jarl Ulfric to live just a little while longer. Why? I can hear them drag the headless body away and suddenly it dawns on me. They want him to watch us all die. Force him to watch as they snuff out the life of every rebel here before killing him. My eyes slide past him as I turn my attention to the Thalmor who stand a few yards away from him. I'm unable to suppress the shudder that runs through my body as I witness the pure hatred in their eyes for my great leader. The female Thalmor in the front is whispering in General Tullius's ear and he seemed none too pleased about her words. Her lips move far too fast for me to read them but for a split second I wonder if I caught the word torture pass from her lips as her hungry gaze flickers back to Jarl Ulfric. General Tullius merely shakes his head and turns to face her. With his back to me I can't see what he saying to her but the expression on the Thalmor's face already tells me that he shot down her idea.

The Thalmor are not going to be satisfied with Jarl Ulfric's death, they want to see him suffer. They want to break not only his body but his mind and will. I can only imagine what sort of torment they would put him through. I suddenly look at the Imperial General with a new admiration. Perhaps he isn't so bad after all. Others would have wanted to humiliate Jarl Ulfric even farther and see him suffer. They wouldn't offer him a quick death, they would torture him until he begged for death and even then they probably wouldn't stop. I can see the worn expression on General Tullius's face as he turns back to face another execution. I dread the thought of watching another head roll but I wanted Jarl Ulfric to be proud of me for facing my death like he is now.

As I drag my eyes back to the block I see a petite looking Bosmer approaching it. By the looks of it I assume she has been here long before we were captured. Her hair matted by mud and filth, her clothes (if that's what you'd call them) splattered with dried blood, and her exposed skin covered in various cuts and bruises. I can only assume she's a captured Stormcloak soldier. She stops half way to the block and her head, ever so slightly, begins to turn to the northeast mountains. She seems to focus on something that isn't there, like she can sense something we can't. The Imperial guiding her to the block shoves her roughly in the back and she half stumbles, half falls the rest of the way. Before she has time to steady herself the female guard standing by the block roughly shoves the Bosmer down to her knees. She then places a her foot firmly on the Bosmers back, forcing her down, her head hitting the wood with a loud thud. Though facing her death the Bosmer doesn't try to escape isn't shaking in fear, she's not even crying. It's as if her mind is elsewhere.

As the executioner raises his bloody axe once more I tear my gaze away, unable to watch another head roll. I wish I can shut my ears from the sickening crunch of steel breaking bone but the sound never comes. A foreign cry tears through the skies, the sound inhuman and laden with evil and malice. I try to picture what creature would make such a horrid sound yet nothing comes to mind. Even the executioner is taken back. We all strain to hear the sound again but nothing happens. Once again the axe is lifted into the air and once again the same cry tears through the air only this time it is much closer. The Guard removes her foot from the Bosmers back and faces the scout tower crying at the top of her lungs, confusion and fear evident in her voice; "Scouts, what do you see?"

The answer comes long after the black beast lands on the tower, treating it as if it is nothing more than a pebble on the ground. Its massive form seems to blot out the sun itself as its piercing red gaze looks down upon us, the hunger and blood thirst evident in them. "Dragon!"

* * *

**A/N**

Hi! My names Crystal and welcome to my first Skyrim fanfiction. I know this chapter is a bit short, but don't worry; future chapters will be longer. I love reading long chapters as much as the next guy.

I'm hoping to be able to update every two weeks as I am a college student and working full time. Writing helps me to cool down when I'm stressed and it's a lot of fun. I already have the next two chapters written and I'm going to attempt to keep a consistent update schedule by having a couple chapters done in advance.

I am currently looking for someone to proof read my chapters for me. I am doing them myself at the moment so there are probably several grammar flaws that I have missed. Feel free to let me know if you see any so I can fix them right away.

Alright, thanks for reading and please leave me a review as it inspires me to write faster! Even a simple 'good job' works for me!

Lok, Thu'um, my friends. ("Sky above, Voice within")

~Crystal


	2. Live or Die

**Chapter 2**

**Sibrii**

_Sun's Dusk 18__th__, __4E 201_

No one dares to move, dares to even breathe as we gaze upon the black beast. Dragons have not been seen in well over a millennium yet here stands one looking older then the settlement we stand in. It has to be some trick of the Thalmor, some magic cast by them to frighten us all. But what good would that do? And if they had such power why would they waste it here instead of a Stormcloak city such as Windhelm? No, it can't be them. My mind races in hopes of finding some other answer but nothing comes to mind. The breed was thought to be wiped out thousands of years ago, there is no way any of them could have survived. Yet here is one, alive and well.

It feels like I've been standing here for hours starring into those red orbs, yet I know it's only been mere seconds. I can hear the priestess scream in fear yet it sounds distant to my ears as if I am dreaming, my world slowing to a crawl. Suddenly the beast cries out in some ancient language bringing me back from the dream-like trance I was in. I turn to run but the power behind its voice sends me crashing to the ground in an instant. My head finds the largest stone to land on and nearly splits my skull open on impact. A cry tears itself from my throat and my vision goes black, darkness threatening to overtake me. But no, I can't let it, not here. As consciousness slips through my fingers I latch onto it, refusing to let it go. I open my eyes to find everyone in a panic. Imperials and Stormcloaks alike are brought to their knees by one word and sent scrambling like children in a hail storm. I watch as my fellow brothers and sisters dive into the nearest tower. It takes me a moment to realize something very important.

They are leaving me behind.

I try to cry out to them only to slur on my words as blood fills my mouth. Must have bitten my tongue when I fell. As I start to pick myself off the ground I watch as they shut the door knowing that they probably locked it to keep the Imperials out as they figure out a plan to escape while the Imperials are kept busy. I can feel the blood sliding down my neck and the throbbing from the side of my head. Looking down I can see a puddle of blood surrounding the rock. In the rush they must have assumed I was dying or dead. Or no one cared that they were leaving their sister behind. I prayed it was the former of the two. I do know one thing, though; I have to escape before the Imperials try to round us up. The longer I linger the sooner I die.

As I began to rise to my knees something gleaming in the sun catches my eye. The headsmen's axe. I can see the human butcher's body partly sticking out of a large pile of rubble the dragon had knocked off the watch tower. I glance over at the Imperial soldiers. They are too busy with their assault against the dragon to care about a lone stormcloak soldier. I quickly make my way over to the axe and cut my bonds. As soon as it tears through the last strands I grab the weapon and leap to my feet. The item feels heavy in my hands and I don't really know how to use it as well as I should but seeing as it's the only thing around I know I would be a fool to leave it behind.

The small fortress is in pure chaos, none of the Imperials even heed any attention to me as I pass by them. Fire rains down from the sky, destroying their mighty towers and ripping holes into their once impenetrable walls. I would laugh at their misfortune if I was watching from the nearby mountains. Instead I am here, fighting for survival like everyone else. Suddenly the mighty beast lands not too far from me, its maw open and ready to spew flames at the now fleeing soldiers. Before I could even slow to a stop I spot a child standing nearby in the dragons path. The boys fear is evident in his eyes, mirroring my own face a few moments ago. Adrenaline began to course through my veins as I rush on, dropping the axe as it became nothing to me but dead weight. I grab the child and dive for cover behind a pile of rubble that may have once been part of a house. I cling tightly to the boy and pray that our cover will hold as fire passes over our hiding spot.

Moments later I can hear its leathery wings beat the air as it takes to the skies once more. I didn't realize that I was holding my breath until I finally release it, tears running down my face as I realize how close I came to dying. Releasing my iron grip on the boy I look down at his trembling body, his cries muffled in my filthy uniform as he refuses to let me go. I know we have to move but seeing how the dragon seems occupied at the moment I am content to sit here and rub the boys back hoping he will calm down.

"Hammy!" a male voice cries out. The boy hiccups once and turns to see an Imperial soldier running towards us with an older man following closely. The boy leaps up and runs into the arms of older man. The Imperial stops and looks at me for a second before turning his back on me to check on the child. I don't want to give him a chance to kill me or think I am a threat so I leap to my feet and run. I have to find a weapon and fast.

I don't even know how far I got as more fire rains down on the sky. I had almost forgotten about them before a fireball lands behind me causing the ground to explode and throw me a couple feet away. I try to pick myself up off the ground but the dull throbbing in my head stops me, turning into a full blown roar. I know I have to move but every time I attempt to stand my world starts to spin. Biting my bottom lip I attempt to rise again only to have a wave of nausea hit me due to the pounding headache. Suddenly the ground lurches as something heavy lands nearby. I realize the dragon must have landed somewhere close. Trying to push away the pain I attempt to get up once more, making it to my hands and knees this time. Shakily I make it to my feet only to almost fall over again when the dragon let out a cry. One of the soldiers must have landed a lucky blow. I try to focus my eyes so I can get moving but they won't.

Out of nowhere someone grabs my arm and wraps it around their shoulders in an attempt to help me walk. They hastily guide me away from the sounds of battle and, hopefully, towards somewhere safe. As we enter one of the buildings they let go of me and I sink to the floor holding my head in my hands in an attempt to stop the pounding. I can hear them shut the door and barricade it, though what good that would do against a dragon I haven't the faintest idea.

"Here, let me bandage that wound." a male voice softly speaks. I hear a tear of fabric and feel him wrap it around my injured head, applying pressure against the wound to stop the bleeding. Slowly my eyes begin to regain focus and my rescuers face comes into view. As soon as I realize who he is I shove him away with as much force as I can muster. An Imperial.

"Don't touch me, Imperial scum." I spit, sliding back away from him. "I'm not going back to that prison. I'd rather die to that dragon's fire then rot in your prisons."

He merely sits there quietly, staring at me with gentle eyes. I recognize him as the one who was reading off the list of prisoners, not once looking up to the people he was condemning. But something didn't make sense to me, why did he just save me back there? Why not just let me die like his fellow brothers were dying right now out in that mess? It doesn't make sense.

"Why did you save me?" I ask a little more gently.

"Because, you're not like the others." He replied. "I can tell, you're far too young to be out here, far too young to die at such an early age. And you saved little Hammy. The boy may grow up to be an Imperial yet you still risked your own life to rescue the boy."

I open my mouth to snap at him but thought better of it and just lean against the wall that I had backed into, closing my eyes once more. I did save the boy knowing full well he may grow up to be an Imperial and that I may one day have to face him in combat. If I live that long, that is. If he lives long enough.

"What is your name?" He asks me.

I hesitate before I answer, finding no harm in doing so as he has already proven that he's not out to capture or kill me. "Sibrii. And you?"

"Hadvar."

* * *

**Atala**

War, battles, the dying, the Thalmor, the Stormcloaks, the Imperial's; I belong to none of it yet her I am standing in the middle of all of it. How in Oblivion do I always find myself in situations like this? Ever since this power struggle started I've always made an attempt to remove myself from the equation, slink in the shadows and reap what I can from this war laden land. Ralph would be so disappointed in me… I promised him that I wouldn't give up on life without a fight, I wouldn't dare let this war be the end of me. Yet there I stood, ready to lay down my head on the chopping block and say farewell to Skyrim, to my home.

Yet… I couldn't shake this feeling welling up in my chest, the memory of knowing that dragon was coming as I waited for them to decapitate me. I remember walking up to the block but halfway to it I blanked out. Not out of fear, per say, but almost as if my consciousness was being pulled out of my head. I remember flashes of colors and the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I can still feel the wind blowing by me and the feeling of freedom. Not being free from the Stormcloaks, but being free from life itself. Like there was nothing tying me down to this barren land.

Walking into a wall suddenly brings me back out of my thoughts. Not a wall, really, but the broad back of my escort, Ralof. A Stormcloak. The man seems intent on keeping me alive, if only because he first believed I was a Stormcloak spy and may still have information that they can use. I opened my mouth to mumble an apology but shut it after I remembered where we are. The heart of Helgen is not some place I want to be right now but it's better than being outside with the raining fire.

"Fus!" I'm still amazed that even through the thick walls of the Imperial barracks we can still hear Ulfric's shouts-correction-Thu'um's as he aides in assaulting the dragon. Dragon. I still can't wrap my mind around it. How in Skyrim did it survive undetected all these years? And why has it chosen now of all times to appear before us?

I force the thoughts from my mind and attempt to focus on where we are. If I am to survive this I need to focus on the task at hand, not daydream. I peer around Ralof's bulky frame and snatch a glance at the next room. Imperial's. Five of them. We have to get by them in order to escape. Though I hate to be paired with a Stormcloack right now, I have to say that I'm glad it was with this one. According to what he's told me, he used to be a guard in Helgen before the war stated so he knows these very halls like the back of his hand.

He makes a motion with his hands to the other two Stormcloaks behind me, a signal that only they know and I really don't care about learning. He then makes a motion with his hand to me and backs away from the doorway that he had been peering around. I take a deep breath and silently pull an arrow from my quiver, notching it in an elaborate looking bow that I could never afford and that was so graciously provided to me by a deceased Imperial. I steal one glance from the next room, map out what I saw in my mind placing every guard, every object, and every obstacle in a roughly sketched, mental blueprint, take another deep breath, and step in front of the door frame, letting loose an arrow as I do so.

The guards didn't have time to react as the shaft found its mark, burrowing itself deep into the neck of the only helmetless one. Before they can start to retaliate another one drops by my hand and when they finally charge at me a third one falls. Before they reach me I back into the wall behind me and watch as the Ralof and the others rush in to dispatch the rest. Before the smell of blood even hits me I retch into a nearby barrel, soiling any produce that was stored inside.

I hear laughter from the others and a few jabs at me being a softy but a reassuring hand gently pats me on the back. Using the back of my gloved hand I wipe away the remnants of my last meager meal from my face and turn to face Ralof. He gives me a sympathetic smile. "Not everyone has the stomach to take another's life. It's just something you get used to."

"I'd prefer to not get used to it regardless of who my opponent is." I retort, walking away from him and being sure to avert my eyes from the mess on the floor. The bow in my hand feels heavier than before, no longer holding the exotic beauty I once saw in it, only the malevolent killer it truly is. Despite how valuable it may be I plan to chuck it into the river the first chance I get when I no longer need it. The memories of the lives it's taken, the lives I've taken with it, will be forever etched into the hard wood. For now it will not leave my possession as it is my only current means of survival aside from Ralof and his companions.

Ralof looks towards me and after receiving a nod he calls for everyone to head out. The jokes and laughter stop and we fall into a comfortable silence and we head through the next set of passages and rooms, killing any Imperials we come across. I shuttered after every death but it was either me or them. I hate myself for this.

"Come on, we're almost there!" Ralof exclaimed as we began to make our way through the underground passage. Cheers come from the others as they cross a rickety looking bridge. Ralof begins to follow only to pause and look back at me finding my pitiful frame curled into a ball and dry heaving because my stomach has already forfeited every last drop it could offer.

I turn my head to look over at him. If only our situation is different I could say that I may feel a slight attraction to him, especially now. The scene looks almost like a painting straight from the blue palace, an exotic looking cave covered in creeper vines, blue and purple mountain flowers growing out of any crack that can hold dirt and rain water, an aged looking rope bridge placed between two cave entrances, and sunlight shining in through a gaping hole in the ceiling. Lastly Ralof is placed in the center of all this, a soft, sympathetic look adorning his roughly chiseled, yet attractive, face.

I can't help but almost smile at him. Almost. After the few weeks in oblivion I've been through a smile doesn't come to me as simply as it would have before. The smile must look more like an involuntary twitch to him, a hint that I'm about to dry heave again. His mouth opens to say something but before it comes out a loud roar is heard from above followed by an ear splitting cracking that echos through the cave.

One moment Ralof is there posed to run for safety.

The next the bridge is gone.

"Ralof!"All time slows to a still for me and the realization of what just happened hits me like a ton of bricks. I peer over the edge to find a pile of rocks and boulders scattered on the cave floor, bits of what was once the bridge poking out here and there like stakes in the ground. A flash of blue and something reflecting the sunlight catches my attention as my eyes are drawn to Ralof's motionless body partly buried by the rubbles.

Without even thinking I began descending down into the rubble. Though the drop isn't as far down as I originally thought it was, I still take my time, being careful to feel for the best foot holds and test them before trusting them to hold him. The last few feet I rush to get down and regret it as soon as my foothold shatters underneath my weight. I hit the floor feet first, absorbing the shock through my leg, and then falling backwards onto my bottom. I involuntarily let out a sharp hiss as pain shoots up my arm. Looking down I find the palm of my right hand bleeding. Must have scrapped it on that last ledge I was gripping.

Pushing it aside I carefully pick my way over the rubble towards where I saw Ralof's body. The coward in me wants to forget about him and flee but I force it away. I haven't survived this long by being a coward. Besides, I can't live with myself if I don't find out if he really is dead. The thought of lying under a boulder with broken bones and no hope of being found while slowly starving to death doesn't appeal to me anymore then it would the next person. I'm glad that my stomach is empty for the site before me leaves me sick. His body looks so broken… Why did I think...

A cough suddenly racks his frail body followed by a cry of pain so loud I know it will haunt me in my dreams for years. I rush to his side and grab his hand. I have nothing to use to sooth his pain but at least knowing he's not alone will hopefully help. His cries stop after a few minutes followed by painful gasps. I sit here for what feels like hours just holding his hand which now has mine in a vice grip but the pain doesn't bother me as much as seeing his broken body does. Finally his gaze travels up to me and it takes all my strength to not look away.

"Ralof…" I start pushing away the lump in my throat. "I'm so sorry, if only you didn't wait for me on that bridge…If only you had left me…"

A smile graces his face, though it looks more like a grimace. He coughs before replying. "D-don't be too hard on yourself. It wasn't your fault."

I say nothing as a tear finds its way down my cheek. He coughs again, only this time blood follows, sprinkling the ground with a crimson color.

"Atala… I need you to do a favor for me." He says grasping for an object hidden underneath his shirt. He pulls out an elaborate looking amulet and looks me straight in the eyes. "Please."

* * *

**A/N**

No! Ralof! I'm sorry, I had to kill him off…. I think he's awesome, but he has no place in this story….. I'm sorry ;-;

Anyway, I'm not happy with the exchange between Hadvar and Sibrii but I couldn't figure out any other way to end it so that's what came out. Sorry. Also I originally wasn't going to add Atala in this chapter at all but I couldn't figure out anything else to say after Sibrii and Hadvar's conversation and I was struck with inspiration for her. Plus it gives you all a chance to look more into her character. If I had to kill someone for survival I think I'd throw up too. But you got to do what you go to do. It's either kill or be killed.

Anyway, please leave a review! Also, if you have any ideas you'd like to throw by me feel free to drop me a pm or something.

Still looking for a proof-reader!

**Lok, Thu'um, my friends.** ("Sky above, Voice within")

~Crystal


	3. Free from Hell

**Chapter 3**

**Sibrii**

_Sun's Dusk 18__th__, __4E 201_

Outside. Helgen is now nothing more than a rubble heap for bandits to pick through. I watch from my cover in the shrubs as that horrid black beast takes to the skies and heads northeast. I long gave up on trying to figure out how such a creature of legend could possibly still be alive after a millennium of hiding and decided to focus more on surviving. Sadly that was after I was separated from Hadvar. A part of the building collapsed while we fled and split us into two separate corridors. By some miracle I've been able to find my way outside but still at a loss where to go. I've never had a sense of direction and memorizing maps has never been my strong point. I can at least point out all the major cities on a map, but none of the minor ones. Helgen is more of a fort than it is a city so I haven't the faintest clue as to where I am. In the southwest part of Skyrim, I know that much, but nothing more than that.

The road is the last thing I need to take as I am more likely to be captured by the Imperials there than anywhere else. But… My vision turns to the forest surrounding Helgen. To the average citizen it looks beautiful, the exotic colors in every leaf, the sweet scent of ferns and mountain flowers, it's an enticing sight. But the moment you look to it for survival it can either be one of two things; a safe haven or a graveyard. For me it's looking more like my future grave. Finding food won't be an issue, but returning to civilization alive and intact will be difficult with no map or guide.

The sound of someone barking orders cause me to whip my head around and glance at the wall before I finally make my mind up and decide to take my chances with the forest. If Ulfric survived and managed to escape, the Imperials will start searching for him the moment they get their troops ready. I need to be miles away from here by then. The road is my worst enemy right now and even if they are searching for Ulfric they will not hesitate to shoot and kill any Stormcloak they come across. Or worse. They will capture, interrogate, and then kill.

A set myself at a quick paced jog, something I am far used to and can carry on for a good hour or so. It will get me far enough. My survival instincts are already taking effect as I concentrate on what I need to do. Water. That's the first thing I need to find. There are always towns located on or near river bends and finding a river right now would be my best bet. About ten minutes in a loud snarl followed by a cry rings out through the forest. The first thought that enters my mind is a wolf attacking some bystander. But a split second later I remember where I am standing. Even a hunter wouldn't travel this far south, especially through a forest. So whoever is being attacked is either an Imperial searching for lose prisoners….or a Stormcloak caught off guard.

Moving as quietly as I can I head towards the racket. A howl echoes through the trees before it's abruptly cut off followed by someone cursing. I peer around a tree to find a stormcloak with a badly injured leg, an archer by the look of it. Her brown hair is matted and the uniform on her looks more like its hanging off her body. Face is thin and body is malnourished, skin pale but still holding a tanned tone to it. My eyes travel up to her ears and with a start I realize that sitting before me is a Wood Elf, the pointed tips betraying her identity. I don't remember traveling with a Bosmer before we got captured, but then again I didn't know everyone I traveled with. Didn't get a chance too.

Shifting my weight from one foot to another I began to step out of my hiding spot when my foot suddenly found a stray twig. Before I realize what just happened I hear a twang and something hit the tree next to my head. My whole body stiffens up as I slowly turn to see a deadly looking arrow buried into the bark. I look back to see her aiming another one at me, threatening to release it should I take another step forward.

"Who are you?" She demands, voice laden with pain. I'm surprised she can still pull the bow back to its full length as injured as she is. By the looks of it the wolf caught her by surprise, shredding the skin on one of her legs. From what I can tell its looks like it bit her at least twice and scratched her several times. She won't survive without my help.

"My name is Sibrii." I replied, confused as to why she was threatening me like this. "Let me help you."

The hostile look in her eyes begins to fad and she slowly starts to lower her bow. I let out a relieved sigh before she suddenly whips it back up in the air and releases her notched arrow. I don't even have the chance to move, only watch as it slow carves a path through the air….and whizzes right by me. I hear a yelp behind me. By instinct I draw my sword, whipping around to see one wolf falling to the ground, an arrow lodged in its throat. A second one is standing right by it, taken back by its fallen companion before lunging for me. It never makes it as my sword finds its way deep into the animal's abdomen.

"Wolves," She spits, sounding weak and tired. "They always hunt in packs, never straying far from one another."

I wipe my blade on the grass before sliding it back into its sheath. After that I glance at the nearest tree and grab a hand full of some hanging moss. Getting a closer look at her leg I find the sight even more gruesome then afar. What I thought were scratches from the wolf appear to have come from rocks and thorn bushes. "We have to get this washed off before infection sets in."

She reaches up and removes the sash from her uniform and hands it to me. I use the cleanest part to wipe off what blood and filth I can before using it to wrap up the wound, carefully placing the hanging moss in between the cloth and her leg. She looks at me with a look of confusion but says nothing content with trusting that I know what I'm doing.

"It's hanging moss. It's got healing properties to it, nature's natural medicine." I explain as I finish tying off her make-shift bandage. "It will stop infection from setting in until we can find a stream."

"Thank you…" She mumbles and I just nod giving her a reassuring smile. Before I can stop her she attempts to stand up, testing her leg to see how much weight she can put on it. She obviously can't put very much on it as I suddenly find myself grabbing her to stop her from falling. She lets out a frustrated growl and mumbles another thank you.

"Let me help you. We have to get out of here before the Stormcloaks find that wolfs body." I tell her, pulling her left arm over my head and across my shoulders with my right hand and wrapping my left arm around her waist so I can support her a little better. Her being shorter than me doesn't help as I have to stoop over but it's all I can do short of carrying her.

For the next couple hours we slowly made our way through the forest. I feared that the blood would draw other predators to us like moths to a flame but nothing else crossed our path other than butterflies and rabbits. The inside of my mouth feels like birch wood, parched. The elf, I have yet to hear her name, can't be much better than I. In fact, I believe she's worse on the account of her leg and how light her body is. She must have been in that fort longer then I thought. But this whole time she's yet to complain or say a word. Neither of us has stopped either for fear of recapture.

The setting sun finally bids us to rest as it slowly kisses the horizon, barely leaving us any light to walk by. That and the tree root I didn't see. Before I know it we're on the ground, faces full of dirt and leaves. I hear a slight moan from her, but otherwise she makes no motion to get up. I force myself to rise to my knees and look for a spot where we can at least rest for a few hours. I spot a bowl in the ground a couple yards away. It's underneath a tree, almost looking like it was the start of an animal burrow but the potential home owner decided to relocate.

I nudge the elf in the arm wondering if she's already asleep. For a moment she stays still but her ears twitch in what I assume is annoyance followed by a heavy sigh. Finally her head rises off the ground and she looks up at me. I point over to the burrow and she nods, understanding without me having to say anything. Helping her up off the ground we make our way to the tree roots. As we get there I gently lay her in first then follow after her. It's a tight fit and overly awkward on both our parts but necessary in order for us to survive. With the winter chill creeping in it is essential that we keep as warm as we can. I cover us with a large pile of dry leaves; it will keep in the heat and mask us from any Imperials.

Now that we are relatively safe I can feel my eyelids beginning to droop, drowsiness clouding my mind as I begin to drift into dreamworld. The last thought that flits across my mind is my parents; my mother's face all too fresh in my mind. Though she didn't agree with my decision to become a Stormcloak she still made an attempt to accept me as I am. How hard I realize it must be for her to look at her little girl, once a proper young girl, now a battle ready warrior. I didn't even get to say good-bye to her before we were captured. We were ordered to be ready to march within the hour, hardly enough time to pack. But that's what the General wanted. No one in the city was to know Ulfric was stepping out of his Hold and that meant that none of the soldiers were allowed to bid their families farewell.

With a heavy sigh I let go of my thoughts and drift into a shallow sleep. It is going to be a long night.

**Atala**

A black beast pins me to the ground with talons as long stakes that surround fort perimeters. His maw opens wide, reveling rows of teeth that are sharp as daggers, as he emits a long cry that bellows from deep within his body. The cry turns into a deep, throaty laugh that hunts me to my core. He's red orbs look down at me, so full of hatred and the need for revenge. "Nust wo ni qiilaan fen kos duaan."

He's words hold no meaning to me but something deep inside me flares up, my lips pull back in a snarl as I growl at him. The noise that comes from my throat does not match what should be coming out, but sounds fairly similar to the beasts with a slightly higher pitch to it. What he said…. The language is ancient and I don't have even the slightest clue as to what he said, but something deep inside me knows the meaning behind the words. Submission. He's demanding submission from me. Part of me urges wants to do what he says and submit. But a new feeling is welling up within me, something I've never felt before. It feels so foreign, but at the same time so natural.

"Zu'u Dovahkiin!" The words come from my own tongue but I myself did not speak them. The presence inside me begins to take me over… no, not take me over. The phenomenon inside of me becomes too complicated for words. It feels like I'm being invaded by something that's always been a part of me, like something is residing deep inside me coxing my every movement. The words that I spoke seem to have come from it rather than me.

Regardless of what has just happened the dragon seems none too pleased as his orbs narrow and he lunges for me. But where others would cry out and cower I return the glare even from underneath he's claws. Moments before he can dig his fangs into me the beast's body suddenly dissipates into a cloud of black smoke. The last thing I hear is a dark, sullen chuckle before reality comes crashing back, jolting me back into the real world.

My eyes flash open and at first confusion hits me before I realize that I am no long a prisoner of Helgen but an fugitive with Sibrii. I give a deep sigh as I wonder what to tell her. If I confess that I'm really not a Stormcloak she may leave me alone in the forest, though I have a slightly better chance at surviving now than I did yesterday. I shake the thought from my head focusing more on survival right now than anything else. The strange dream is already fading from my mind as the minutes pass. What did I say to that beast? What did I feel? It was a dream so of course I didn't feel fear. I killed it, right?

Curiosity bids me to observe the world above but reasoning tells me to listen first; listen for any possible threats that may be looming about. I close my eyes and open my ears, mentally writing a list in my head. Birds fluttering in the tree branches come to me first followed by the wind softly blowing through the branches. I can make out the sound of a squirrel or chipmunk rustling through the leaves as it looks for where it buried its acorns for the winter and the light patters of a fox trailing not too far behind it as it waits for just the right moment to pounce. The sound of a rushing river in the distance hits me next going down what sounds like a set of rapids but other than that I am unable to hear the presences of others around.

Wait. A river. Water. I shot up into a sitting position scattering leaves everywhere, Sibrii scrambling into a fight or flight pose right next to me as she is so rudely woken from her sleep. She mutters something about Imperial scum under her breath with a small boot dagger in her hand as she scans the area around us. The early morning sun is just barely peeking up from the horizon so it leaves us just enough light for us to view out surroundings. After realizing that no one's around us a half confused, half annoyed look crosses her face as she turns to me.

"Listen." I tell her. She seems to be slightly annoyed but merely shrugs, stretching out her body as several bones in her body give a loud, audible crack. She closes her eyes just as I had done and listens to the sounds of the forest. Due to my sudden appearance the animals have all fled the area. Sibrii's eyes fly open as she looks down at me, a slight grin appearing on her face.

Moments later, with Sibrii's help, we arrive at the riverbend, greedily drinking in the crisp spring water. Sibrii pulls out a water canteen and fills it before taking another long drink. After our thirst has been satisfied we scrub ourselves vigorously, me especially as its been far too long since I've had a bath. The water, cold as it may be, is as refreshing as a Jarl's wine.

"Alright, let's take a look at your leg." Sibrii voices when we are done. Stretching out my injured limb she goes about peeling off the make-shift bandage. I wince as she pulls it away, the dry blood and scab sticking to the cloth and coming away with it. Unable to bear looking at it I turn to observe my traveling companion instead. Her bloodied armor suggests Stormcloak, but I look closer trying to confirm for myself the person underneath. Her frame looks heavy, though far from fat. Most redguards I have come across usually have a heavy, warrior build to them so I assume she is no different. Her skin tone is a few shade lighter than the average redguard, but I can only assume that is because she is used to a city with little sunlight which leads me to believe she is from one of the northern cities.

Her touch is gentle enough and her medical expertise tells me that she is knowledgeable in the medical field but from what I have learned in the art of battle and warfare the army's do not train medics, they recruit them so she must be from a family or has a family member who is a healer. Because of the fact she is relying on herbs, she is not from a family of restoration mages which rules out Winterhold and presumably the nearby towns. Dawnstar is far too secluded and north as well as the fact that it has no high end estate holders other than the Jarl himself. From the lack of scars and how well fed she appears to be, compared to half of Skyrim's residence, she comes from a well brought up family who need not worry about money. The fact that she is here with me today causes me to conclude she is out here to prove something. To who? Well, even I cannot guess at that. So that only leaves….

"Where are you from?"

She jumps at the sound of my voice and I swallow a laugh as she mumbles a few swear words. "Windhelm."

I smirked as she confirmed my suspicion but wiped it off my face before she could even see it. Though I already suspect the answer, I ask anyway to confirm it and to keep my mind off my leg which I glanced at and about gaged at the site. "What caused you to join the Stormcloaks?"

She hesitates before answering, "To prove something to my family. You never told me your name."

"Atala. And you are Sibrii, correct?" Her change of subject makes me assume I hit a sore spot, once again confirming my suspicion. But I'm not here to befriend her, merely to get her to help me get to the nearest town.

"Yes, but Brii is fine too. Why did you join the Stormcloaks?"

I hesitate, just as she had. Should I tell her the truth and risk her leaving me behind? Or lie until we get to the nearest town? Before I can open my mouth we hear a rustling nearby. Whether it is a rabbit, a wolf, or an Imperial, we both shut up and listen. After a moment of not hearing anything else we both settle into silence as she finishes placing her own blue sash around my leg, throwing my old one around her waist. It is useless to us now but we both know we can't leave it behind. No sense in leaving a trail for others to follow. Sibrii once again helps me up and we continue our journey.

A/N:

Three days late, sorry! Finals this week an such D=

Dovah Translation:

Nust wo ni qiilaan fen kos duaan." ― "Those who (do) not bow will be devoured."

"Zu'u Dovahkiin!" – I am Dragonborn

Just thought I'd post the meanings. I get annoyed when others don't and I have to go looking up what they mean. I hope to use the Dov Language more in the future when I can and will always post the meanings on the bottom of my story.

And to explain Atala's odd dream, have you ever wondered why Alduin only ever attacked Helgen and no other town? Some theories include:

-He went to either kill, humiliate(because he/she is stuck in the body of a mortal), or save(to fulfill future prophecies) the Dovahkiin.

-Felt the presence of another Dov(a.k.a. the Dovhkiin) nearby and thought to investigate.

-Believed Ulfric was the Dovahkiin due to the fact he can use the thu'um.

Now the last one couldn't be true as Ulfric doesn't have a dovah soul and he couldn't shout until after Alduin appeared so that rules this theory out.

I don't believe he had anything to do with saving the Dovahkiin. At Kyensgrove he says "So, you're the Dragonborn? Your voice shines not from Dragonkind, but from yourself"; meaning he didn't know who the Dovahkiinn was at Helgen. He left Sahloknir to kill the Dovahkiin at kynesgrove which proved he wasn't threatened by the Dovahkiin until after the battle at the Throat of the World where he/she retrieves the Dragonrend.

Also to be noted, during the battle at Helgen you may (not always) hear Alduin say "Dovahkiin." It's possible that he confused Ulfric with the dragonborn because he felt the Dovahkiin's presence nearby but saw that Ulfric had the Thu'um.

Sorry, but I had to get that out of my system.

I hope you all enjoyed and if you actually read my a/n, free virtual cookies for you! See you soon and please leave a review!

Lok, Thu'um, my friends. ("Sky above, Voice within")

~Crystal


	4. Home Free

**Chapter 4**

_Sun's Dusk 21__th__, __4E 201_

**Atala**

A day, day and a half at most. That's how long it should have taken us to arrive in this small river village by foot from Helgen, but no, my injured leg had to slow us down. Brii's stamina astounds me, but I should expect no less from a solider, albeit a Stormcloak. The divines must be looking out for us. My leg has healed enough to allow me to limp along without Brii's aid(plus the fact that my own pride won't allow me to rely on her anymore then I have to) and we have come across few foes the past three days. After the second day of travelling the two of us agreed to forsake the forest and follow the road, dangerous as that decision may have been. A risky decision but we had little choice. We originally planned to stick to the river but found that the road clings to the river's edge and without it we would surly lose our way. No one had come across us during the rest of our journey causing me to wonder if anyone in Helgen had even survived.

Night has slowly begun to fall coving the land in a blanket of darkness, the clouds casting their shadows over the waning moons. In my mind I bid thanks to the Deadric Prince watching over us, whomever they may be. It's perfect as I'd prefer no one sees us enter clad in Stormcloak uniforms least we arouse suspicion. I have done what I can to stay out of the war and that includes knowing which towns are for what cause. I have no knowledge as to who Riverwood supports which could potentially help us or lead to our downfall. If Sibrii and I make it out of this alive I will make an attempt to at least keep up on what towns favor who.

"Wait." I softly call to Sibrii who has been walking ahead of me since sunrise. The sound of my voice causes her to jump, something I take slight pleasure in. She turns to face me, a questioning look in her eyes. I look at the stone arch ahead of us that marks the beginning of the Riverwood. Once it was used as a guard lookout post now it is nothing more than a crumbling hazard zone. The small village has little to nothing to offer other than wood and being placed so close to Helgen they live their lives in carefree comfort. The peaceful atmosphere leads me to believe they are unaware of the threat that destroyed their only nearby defense and may possibly return.

I make a motion with my hand, signaling Sibrii to follow my lead. We quietly slip back into the undergrowth, my steps light as I more or less glide across the ground, hers a little heavier but quiet enough to slip into the town unnoticed. Slowly but surely we slip in, staying close to the river's edge and away from any prying eyes. My armor clinks slightly every step and I curse it, wishing to be rid of it but can't without alerting any Imperial scouts of our whereabouts.

After five minutes of slinking about I finally find what I was looking for, hearing it before actually seeing it. The Riverwood lumberjack mill. The gentle swishing of the mill wheel gives off an almost soothing lullaby like song. A man and a woman are both there tying up a large bundle of logs and gathering up several tools before they head home for the night. We stop a few feet from the mill, still in the cover of shadows. I signal for Brii to wait as I approach them. She merely nods her head, either trusting that I know what I'm doing or too tired to care. Taking care to not make too much noise I slowly remove the short sword from my waist and my quiver from my back. It would be odd for me to approach the mill couple completely armed. Taking a deep breath and double checking for any bystanders that might panic at the sight of a stormcloak I limp out of the shadows.

The man, a true nord complete with blonde hair and a muscular build, notices me first. He says something to his wife, not once taking his eyes off me as I stop about twenty feet from them. Close enough to talk with them and far enough to run if they attempt to attack me. At least if they panic, Brii can get away. I can't make it too far with my lame leg. The female turns to face me, her body stiffening up as she recognizes my Stormcloak armor. She looks at me with more curiosity then hostility. "Can we help you?"

"Are you Hod and Gerdur?" I quietly ask, already feeling a lump rising in my throat. The female, Gerdur, nods her head, the movement was brief, had I blinked I would have missed it. Reaching under my armor I pull out a beautiful yet simple looking amulet. It hangs on a leather strap with a few carefully carved beads decorating it. The ornament hanging from it is a delicately forged metal piece of two birds in flight. My words come out in a whisper, and though it pains me to deceive them I give them the saddest look I can in an attempt to gain their pity. "I'm sorry… Ralof won't be returning home."

Gerdur covers her mouth as she falls into her husband's arms. He begins to murmur soothing word to her, rubbing her back in an attempt to calm her muffled cries. After a moment he seems to suddenly realize that I am still standing here. He holds out his hand and I place the amulet there before turning to disappear into the shadows, waiting for what I'm hoping-what I know- is coming next. "Wait."

I turn around to face him, faltering slightly in mid step. That part isn't part of my act, my leg throbbing underneath my weight. Gerdur has stopped sobbing and is whispering something to her husband; he nods his head and looks me in the eyes. Though I make no outward movement, I ready myself to flee in case they didn't believe me. "Come. Stay the night with us, you must be weary from your journey."

"I don't want to intrude…" I start before Gerdur suddenly cuts me off.

"You're not intruding." She states, finding her voice again. "Please. I want… I want to hear what happened and how my brother died."

"And tell your friend she can stop hiding in the shadows." Hod scoffs. The rustling from behind me tells me that Brii has forsaken her cover. She appears beside me, taking my arm and wrapping it around her shoulder. I tried hiding how much pain I was in all day from her but this time welcomed her help. "Come."

~.~.~

**Brii**

I feel like a child again, listening to the Khajiit travelers spinning their tales in an attempt to capture my imagination (an encourage me to buy their wares). Only this time it is a Bosmer spinning a tale of anguish and despair. We started at the beginning of our tale, keeping our voices low as we sat in front of the fire in a set of clothes Gerdur has so generously allowed us to borrow. I can tell Atala is grateful to be rid of her armor. I told of how Ulfric, Ralof, and the rest of us were captured and sentenced to death, though I left out the part where Hadvar assisted me later on. Atala followed shortly after explaining that she was a prisoner there, though I noted that that she conveniently left out how she was captured. She told of Ralof guiding her and a small band of others out of the fortress and how he died waiting for her a top the bridge. My heart reaches out for her and Gerdur merely clasps one of Atala's hands in comfort, the gesture, small as it may be, seems to have lifted a burden from her shoulders. She kept apologizing like his death was her own fault but Gerdur merely murmured that it was the way her brother would have wanted to die, save for the painful part, fighting for his country and his people.

I didn't realize when we arrived here that Atala was seeking out this Riverwood couple; I assumed that she was merely seeking help from them. Gerdur and her husband have been generous to us, though. Feeding us, clothing us, her husband even took our armor for us to hide it away somewhere. Probably to sell it to the local blacksmith but it matters little to me as it would only endanger us more than help us. Atala and I can travel to Windhelm better without the it as we won't be so encumbered and the Imperials/Thalmor will have no reason to suspect two women of being Stormcloaks if bare no resemblance to my brothers. Still feeling nothing but cloth against my skin unsettles me greatly.

As our tale ends Gerdur offers to let us stay with her until we are fit to travel again. Atala starts to refuse as neither of us want to risk their lives if the Thalmor find us here but her and her husband reassure us that there is little chance that we will be found out here as long as we keep our heads down and get rid of any items that may tie us back to Helgen. Atala seems all too eager to be rid of her Imperial bow after Hod offers her his own hunting bow, though why she would give up a sturdy bow for twig with twine is beyond me.

In the end we both curl up on thin slipping mats in front of the fireplace. Almost as soon as her head hits her pillow she is out like a light. I don't blame her as we have both had a long day. My body longs for sleep but my restless mind refuses to let go of reality just yet. The past couple of days go through my mind over and over again, playing out like a really bad dream. The fact that what we just faced was real still doesn't register in my mind. A dragon. A DRAGON. I saw it in their eyes as we spoke of the beast. Neither Gerdur nor Hod believed us when we spoke of it. The two seem nice enough but only because of Atala's connection with Ralof, as brief as it was. Perhaps if Ralof was here with us… but no, I can't dwell on what might have been, only what is here in front of us now.

I don't know what time I had finally fallen into a dreamless sleep, all I do know is the quiet patter of feet causes me to stir. At first the sound startles me, causing me to leap to my feet reaching to my side for a sword that's not even there. Gerdur jumps, almost dropping her small plate of food. My mind clears and I suddenly remember where I am. No longer a prisoner in Helgen or a runaway in the woods but a fugitive hiding in Riverwood. I sit back down on my mat and glance out the window. I can only assume it was sometime well after midnight when I dozed off and now the sun is just barely rising over the horizon. Though I've only had a couple hours of sleep chances of me falling back to sleep are slim to none as I am now wide awake. Glancing over at Atala I see that she is still fast asleep. I doubt she would wake up even if the dragon returned and wreaked the town.

I sit watching the dwindling fire burn as Gerdur munches away at her meal, Hod's snores from their bedroom is the only sound that breaks the silence. After a while I hear Gerdur stand up from her seat and wipe her plate off with a wet rag before drying it and putting it away. As she slips on her boots I finally turn to face her. "Are you heading to the mill?"

She nods her head as she finishes tying her laces. "You and your friend are free to stay until her leg is healed. There is food in the cupboard over there when you get hungry and medicine downstairs."

"Can I come with you?" I ask. "You don't have to pay me. At least let me work at your mill in return for our board and food."

After a moment's hesitation she nods. "Fine. Just do what I say and keep your head down. If anyone approaches us don't say a word and let me do the talking."

I grab half a loaf of bread, slip on my boots, and follow her out the door. The crisp morning air sends goose bumps up my arms and I find myself wishing I had grabbed a cloak on our way out. The town is fairly quiet as few people are venturing out so early in the morning with the sunlight barely coming over the horizon. We say nothing to each other; the only sounds piercing the silence are the birds calling to one another as they fling from tree to tree and the river lazily flowing by the town. Finally as we cross the wooden bridge leading to the mill I break the silence.

"You don't believe us, do you?" I ask. "About the dragons."

"No, honestly I don't." She says without hesitation.

"I saw it and hardly believe it myself." I mumble, scratching the back of my head. "But thank you all the same for sheltering us. Once Atala is well enough to travel we will be out of your hair."

~.~.~

**Atala**

Birds singing in the background bring me back to reality. I had fallen into a deep sleep, dreams full of the horrors I faced in that horrid dungeon. Being attacked once by a dragon isn't enough to erase those three weeks in hell. The pain is all too fresh in my mind from those nights, in my dreams they become so real, as if I am going through all that torture all over again. The dragon had been more of a blessing to me than a curse. I swore at Vaermina, the Daedric Prince of Nightmares and half plea that she will give me at least one peaceful night. My sleep was so deep I couldn't even wake myself. I don't even know if I'm awake now or if I'm just going to pull the covers off and face more torment.

"Who are you?" A young male voice calls out to me. In my half-awake/half-asleep state of mind I register the sound as a figment of my imagination.

"I'm nobody important..." I mumble into my blankets, pulling them up and over my head in an attempt to block out the sunlight. All of a sudden a very wet snout finds its way under my blanket followed by a long, slobbery tongue. In the years to come, I will forever deny what just happened.

I let out a loud, embarrassing, pompous female squeal.

I fight my way out from underneath my blanket, arms flailing widely in an attempt to rid myself of the cumbersome item that seems to have wrapped itself around my body like a corpse being laid to rest. As soon as my head finds its way out of the thick material the same tongue licks me again. I let out another, less embarrassing sound of disgust and shove away the shaggy mongrel that has so mercilessly attacked me. On the other side of the hearth is a young boy laughing so hard he has to hold his sides for fear of them bursting.

"Who are you?!" I ask, shoving the dog away once more as he strays a little too close to me.

"Frod…nar" He gasps between laughter.

I give the dog one last shove before grabbing the blanket and folding it up into a neat pile placing it in a corner by the fireplace. As soon as I turn around the boy shoves a plate of food in front of my face. I hesitate for a moment before grabbing the plate. This is not Helgen where the Thalmor slip 'truth serums' (more or less painful poisons) into my food, this is the home of an innocent child and his parents. We eat in silence, Frodnar's dog has taken to lying next to me as I eat, big pleading eyes staring up at me as he waits for me to drop something for him. As I finish off the rest of my food I feed him the last few morsels of bread which he happily laps up. I have to shove his head away as he attempts to lick my face again.

"So what's your name?" Frodnar asks, fidgeting is his seat at the table like any other 12 year old boy.

"Atala." I say. He opens his mouth to ask another question but I continue, already knowing what he's going to say. "I'm a hunter. Was traveling from Helgen after a hunting trip when I got attacked by some wolves. My travelling companion, Sibrii, was passing by when she heard the attack. Helped me out after that."

I threaded what truth I could into the lie, something that I am shamefully good at. I had time to prepare it, though. When Brii and I were talking with his parents last night we had all agreed to hide the truth from him, at least until they were ready to tell him of his Uncles fate. It is not my place to break the news.

"What are you doing here then? Why aren't you staying at the inn?"

I deadpanned, unsure of what to tell him. We failed to discuss this last night and I'm not sure what to tell him for fear of Sibrii giving him a completely different story.

"Sibrii is an old friend of your Uncles." A gruff, deep voice calls as heavy feet stomp up the basement stairs. "They came in late last night and your mother and I didn't want them heading to the inn with all the drunkards, seeing as how they both are two females without a male escort."

Usually I would be starring daggers at anyone stating such a sexist comment but instead I send Hod a grateful look. The story seems to satisfy young Frodnar as he looks at his father. "Where is Sibrii anyway. I didn't see her this morning."

I was wondering the same thing, figuring that she may have left me here in an attempt to get back to her precious Stormcloak war. With all the Stormclaok camps dotting the land like a plague there has to be one around here somewhere. But what Hod tells his son honestly surprises me. "She's with your mother at the mill. Says she'd rather work for her keep while her and Atala stay here."

Frodnar turns back to me, excitement evident in his eyes. "How long are you two staying here?"

"At least until my leg heals enough for me to walk normally." I tell him. He looks at it curiously. I myself am wondering how it is looking as I haven't had the chance to see it since last night and that was only by the fire which gave off a tainted light. I pull the hem of my skirt up to my knee and the three of us stare at my mutilated leg. The bandage Gerdur placed on it last night has flecks of red staining it, possibly the result of me scrapping it across the floor in my sleep. It has also swelled up, I'm praying that's not a sign of infection. I make no move to remove the bandage, not because of the blood but more because of what I might see.

"Do you all have a town healer?" I ask, only having been to Riverwood once before in my life and that was at night. Hod nods and looks at Frodnar who is practically pleading to escort me. I attempt to stand only to drop back to the floor, gasping as pain shoots up through my leg. I must not have moved at all in my sleep as it is as stiff as a board. The pain almost feels like a wolf is biting into it again. After a few minutes of moving my leg around in order to get the blood circulating again I find that I can finally move it without bringing on another round of pain. I also discover that I can't place my weight on it fully so Frodnar wraps my arm around his shoulders and helps me walk. It doesn't bother me as much as it does with Sibrii. Frodnar is more my height compared to Sibrii's almost six foot frame. As a Bosmer I'm only a mere five feet tall.

Twenty minute later we both arrive at the Riverwood Trader. Apparently, from what Frodnar has told me, Riverwood doesn't have an official healer. Instead they have an amateur healer who happens to be the Traders sister. The two of us walk (rather I limp) into the building, Frodnar rather loudly announcing our presence despite the fact that the room is partly empty. "Camilla, I have a patient for you!"

A tall, brunette Nord female walks in from the backroom a few moments later with a small bag in her hands. "Frodnar, who did you injure with your pranks now?!"

I raise one eyebrow and look at my young companion who merely gives me a sheepish, innocent looking smile. Camilla stops after seeing me surprise evident in her eyes. "I've not seen you around here before."

My body involuntarily stiffens up, though the movement was slight and I doubt she noticed. Frodnar must have but he says nothing as he leads me to a chair were I gratefully sit. I remind myself that this is a small town and no one is looking for a supposed Stormcloak spy who escaped from Helgen. I give her a look of confusion look and the older (I'm assuming she's older than me) female shakes her head. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. We don't get too many visitors here. We are but a humble village and the closest city is Whiterun. Now, what can I do for you?"

Before I even open my mouth two people burst in through the front door. A young male Nord with who I assume is his elderly mother. The withered female is babbling on about some nonsense while protesting about being dragged into here.

"Sven," Camilla calls his name with a slight singsong tone. "What is it?"

"My mother here is having another one of her fits." He states in an annoyed voice. "I was wondering if you have any more of your calming potions for her."

"No, but I can make a few for you real quick."

I am completely forgotten as she walks away from Frodnar and I. She takes Sven's mothers hands in her own and starts to talk to her in a soothing tone in an attempt to calm the older lady.

"She's crazy, don't believe a word she says." Frodnar states before making an escape out the door. Left alone at the table I grow slightly annoyed by the fact that he left, but I can't blame him. He's only a child after all. Camilla makes her way into the back of the shop while Sven sits his mother across from me, following his lover into the other room after making sure she's comfortable and completely ignoring me. I sigh as I watch him leave, slightly envious of the love they share. Not of him particularly, but just the fact that I've been so isolated from others I've had little to no interaction with the opposite gender other than my mentor, which I'd prefer not to base the whole male species off of him.

"You have to believe me, I'm not crazy!"

I jump as the old Nord snatches one of my hands in her own. I had to resist yanking it away from her for fear of hurting her. Looking into her eyes I see the truth behind them. In my past I have encountered crazy people, some looking like they have been possessed by Sheogorath himself. This woman has a clear mind. I place my other hand on top of hers. The corners of her wrinkled old mouth pulled up into a half smile at the thought that someone might finally believe her.

"I saw it, I saw it! I may be old but I know I saw it!" She rants, her voice quiet and low. "It was black as night with a wingspan of a mile. It was as big as a mountain and will kill us all!"

"What did you see?" I ask in a slightly lower tone, glancing at the door knowing it will be a while before the two love birds come back.

Her tone becomes quieter though the excitement is evident in her voice. "A dragon."

I take in a sharp breath. Part of me is rejoicing knowing someone else outside of Helgen saw it, part of me is fearful of the next hold that beast may attack. I give her hand a light, reassuring squeeze letting her know that I believe her. "Where did it fly off to?"

Hope jumps into her eyes and I can tell she's on the brink of shouting with joy. "You've seen it too! I'm not crazy."

"Please, where did it fly off to?" I reply, almost pleading for the information. I can hear that Camilla is almost done with the calming potion. "That dragon tore apart Helgen, I was there. I need to know where it was headed so I can warn the next hold."

"Northeast. Towards Whiterun."

My blood runs cold. If that beast attacked Whiterun they would be at its mercy. Dragonsreach would fall, the Jorrvaskr would burn, and all of Skyrim would fall apart because Whiterun is the center of everything. Traders travel through there all the time. It would take Skyrim a long time to rebuild such a center of information.

"I have to warn them." I whisper more to myself than the old woman.

She grabs my hands and clutches them tightly, her knuckles turning white in the process. "Please, if you're going to Whiterun to warn the Jarl of the beast plead for him to send guards here. Riverwood is but a simple town, so isolated that the Thieves Guild doesn't even both with us. If that dragon attacks here…"

Before I can say anything we hear Camilla announce that she's done with the potion. The old lady grabs a small coin purse and presses it into the palm of my hand, withdrawing before I can even refuse it. "It' not much but it will be enough for a few days in the Whiterun Inn."

Camilla and Sven return to the front room and I discreetly hide the small bag in the folds of my dress. Sven thanks his lover and leaves with his mother who has quieted down about the dragon. Finally Camilla turns around and faces me. "Sorry about that. Now, what can I do for you?"

**A/N**

First off, let me apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I took a 2 month break mostly because college ended and the holiday's started. Plus I write better when I'm in school. Have free time between classes and little distractions.

Secondly, I know, nothing in this chapter and I regret to say that the next chapter will be a little like this, but please bear with me! The one after that I promise will have more action. I'm getting back on(or attempting to) update every two weeks. The next chapter I have half written but it would also help if I had a proof-reader. I have to proof read them myself and trust me, I miss quite a few things. If you're interested let me know through a pm.

Lastly, let me know how I'm doing. I only have one review for the first chapter and though I'm trying not to focus completely on reviews it would be nice to know if people at least like what I'm writing. I know I'm not the best, but I can take it if you tell me my writing sucks.

I can take constructive criticism!

For anyone still following me, I once again apologize ._.

Now, I'm off to class!

Lok, Thu'um, my friends. ("Sky above, Voice within")

~Crystal


	5. Whiterun

**Chapter 5**

_Sun's Dusk 23__th__, __4E 201_

**Sibrii**

We stayed another day with Hod and Gerdur, me working at the mill while Atala stayed at the house and cooked. I'm surprised at how well she can cook with the few items she has. Her maimed leg has healed enough for us to travel, something she has been eager to do since yesterday. Gerdur and I tried to convince her that we should stay another day stating that she wasn't fit enough to travel but she decided to go out and prove me wrong by disappearing early last evening, not returning till late in the night with a few dead rabbits and hawks tied to her belt. Every single one of the rabbits was shot in the eye, leaving the pelts perfectly intact for skinning and either selling or turning into clothing.

I fear that had I refused her then, she would have left without me.

It's been about four hours since we left Riverwood, the sun just starting to reach the top of the sky. Atala's leg, as much as she's trying to hide it, is bothering her. I can see the slight limp in her step and the pain in her eyes but she's intent on continuing our journey so I say nothing knowing if I do it will only irritate her. We walk in silence, neither of us uttering a word to the other. Here in the broad daylight I finally have a moment to truly observe my traveling companion and I'm honestly shocked by what I see.

Her sun kissed skin is a true testament to her status as a wood elf and her short stature is to be expected of her kind. But what really shocks me is her face. Only having truly seen her in the pitch black night, covered in dirt, blood and grim, or sleeping underneath a pile of blankets I have never seen the true face that lies underneath it all. Her features are almost the opposite of an elf's. Bosmers are known for their pointed facial features yet Atala's seems to be more rounded. But that's not what shocks me.

She's young.

Far younger then I first thought her to be. Being a fellow Stormcloak I assumed she was at least around my age, possibly even older. Yet here and now I witness someone who doesn't even appear to be out of her teen years. Her eyes hold a haunted soul, but still have that childish sheen to them. After a moment I realize she's squirming under my gaze and out of embarrassment I tear my eyes away, though can't help but glance at her a few times.

"Atala." I start, drawing out her name slowly as I wonder how to approach the topic. "How…how old are you?"

She doesn't reply right away and I see a slight falter in her step. Her eyes are suddenly drawn away to something in the distance and her pointed ears flick almost like a horses when they shoe away a fly. Though I've not known her long I can tell it's a sign that she's thinking about how to answer my question, simple as it may be. Is she going to lie to me? Why? Why does she even need to think about it?

After a moment she finally answers. "17."

I stop in my tracks, mouth agape as I process what she just told me. Whether she realizes I stopped or not, she makes no move to acknowledge it as she continues moving forward. "17…? A 17 year old stormcloak?"

Her ears flicker again this time drooping ever so slightly. Realization finally hits me. "You're not really a stormcloak, are you."

The words come out more of a whisper than anything else but her sensitive ears pick them up none the less. She too stops walking, keeping her back to me. Her ears drop down farther and though I can't see it I'm sure her face is holding that 'I just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar' look.

"You lied to me? Why?"

"I…I was scared…" She replies, voice slightly quivering. Shocked, I say nothing and she continues after a moment. "I was injured…and alone. Then you came along. The only chance I had. I couldn't go back."

Not once does she turn around to face me. At first I'm furious that she lied to me believing I would have let her die in that forest. But then I think back to my Stormcloak brothers and sisters. How many of them would have really stopped to help her? How many of them would have left her to die? I take a few steps forward and watch as her body involuntarily stiffens up, almost as if she's anticipating a strike from behind.

"I'm sorry for deceiving you." She whispers.

~.~.~

**Atala**

I had to tell her what she wanted to hear. Tugging on people's heart strings is easy enough to do with practice, easier still when heavily laden with the truth. Yes I really was scared when we first met. I was scared of being left behind only to die alone in the forsaken forest or worse, found by the Imperials. But the last part is a lie. I'm not sorry for doing what I did, I had to protect myself. Had the Thalmor found me they would have tortured me, slowly and painfully for as long as they could before letting me die a slow, agonizing death. Had they not I would have been easy prey for the wolves and bears. I was given one chance for freedom and I wasn't going to let it slip through my grasp without a fight.

Hearing Brii's footsteps behind me made me involuntarily shudder and in truth I was expecting something to happen. Last time I didn't play my cards right I ended up with a broken rib. Her steps stop directly behind me and before I can even do anything she gently puts her hand on my shoulder, says nothing, and continues walking. I just stand there for a moment, unsure. As if sensing my confusion she stops, turns around, and looks at me.

"We have a long way to go so we better get moving."

~.~.~

Three hours later and I'm tugging at my skirt for the hundredth time. As grateful as I am to Gerdur for providing us with clothing I wish it could have been something a little more travel worthy. The dress she gave me is gorgeous, a deep forest green color with long, open sleeves, and a rustic colored, brown belt around my waist. But because of my smaller stature it goes all the way down to the ground and snags on every root I pass by.

My mother always made me wear dresses growing up saying that a lady, no matter their status, should always be dressed appropriately. Even to this day I still cling onto that ideal. Yes, pants would be easier, especially now but I can't bring myself to it. Even the Stormcloak armor I wore had a long tunic that acted more like a short dress on me. Another few steps and my skirt snags again almost causing me to fall this time. With a sigh I stop in my tracks. Brii, who has been walking ahead of me, stops after a moment, the lack of footsteps causing her to turn around.

I look down at the long skirt, the bottom hem already torn to shreds by the unforgiving forest floor. I reach down into my boot and pull out my dagger, out of the corner of my eye I see Brii's hand go straight to her hilt. Gripping the handle tightly I bring its tip to the side of my hip and before I can stop myself cut a long slit from the middle of my hip to the bottom of my dress reveling my earth colored trousers underneath. I do the same to the other side and put the dagger away to look at Brii who now has a look of shock on her face.

"You may want to do the same thing." I tell her, almost as if I'm presenting a fact. "Fighting in a long dress sucks."

After a moment she does the same thing to her red-ish colored dress, though starting lower on her hip then I did. We continue on in silence for another couple hours before stopping for the night. I can only assume that we are about half way there as Whiterun is around the same distance from Riverwood as Helgen is. We should arrive sometime late the next afternoon/evening.

~.~.~

The closer we get to Whiterun the more nervous I become. We stayed the night in the forest with no trouble, this time prepared with fur blankets and a small tent to protect us from the elements. Much more preferred over a hole in the ground. The nightmares still plague me in my sleep, though it is less about the dragon this time and more about how close I came to dying. How close I came to giving up…

We have been traveling for around two hours now, silence our only companion. After the conversation yesterday Brii has not brought up the subject of the Stormcloaks again. I wonder what will become of us now. Will we part ways when we reach Whiterun? Will she attempt to recruit me into the Stormcloaks? How will she get back to Windhelm before the winter winds bock the roads?

"Septim for your thoughts?" Brii asks, breaking the silence.

I laugh, wondering where to begin. But I already know the answer to that. "I'm worried. When we get there… I'm going to have to speak to the Jarl."

"About Helgen." She states more than questioning. I nod, swallowing nervously.

"Even if he laughs at me, I still have to. It wouldn't be right to not say anything." I throw my hands into the air. "But what am I going to say?! And to a Jarl, no less. Yes, hi, you're not going to believe me but a dragon, yes that creature we haven't seen in over a thousand years, appeared in the middle of Helgen just as I was going to get my head chopped off and it leveled the place."

My companion cringes at the memory of what would have been had the beast not appeared. It was both a blessing and a curse. "You can probably leave out the part about the block…"

At this point I stop and curl up into a ball, hands covering my head as I press it into my knees. "For the love of Talos, he's going to think I'm crazy…"

"You don't have to do it, you know." She places a hand on my shoulder. "They will find out about the dragons eventually."

That thought crossed my mind several times. We don't know if there's more than one. We don't even know if it's still in Skyrim. The old lady from Riverwood said she saw it flying to the Northeast but did it ever stop? What if it turned around and went South across the Skyrim border? What if it went back into hiding?

"I can't, Brii." I state standing back up. "If it attacks Whiterun… If people die… at least this way they might heed my warning, crazy as it may sound. They may laugh in my face but it will still set them on the edge."

"We may be forced to stay the winter there. If not that we will still have to stay for a few weeks to earn enough Septims for our journey. Can you handle the ridicule that the people will give you?"

"Trust me." I assure her as I start walking again. "I know how to disappear into the shadows. If it comes to it I'll disappear for a while."

~.~.~

Whiterun. It appears as a beacon to us in the bleeding night sky as we top the last hill. Small farms dot the landscape around it but the vast city on top screams security and power. I would prefer to stay the night outside once more but Brii insists we find the inn. Night is the best time to hear the latest gossip. Mead loosens the tongues of the people and we will be able to hear any news leading to jobs and, most importantly, the Jarl's mood.

It is well after dark when we finally reach the gates, the twin moons already climbing their way into the sky. The guards give us a suspicious look but allow us to enter with no trouble. My leg is throbbing and I can't wait to feel the soft bed underneath me. As soon as we enter the city is bustling with last minute chaos. People closing up shops, children running to get home, guards keeping watch for thieves of any kind, and all in all a normal end to a normal day. With the carefree way everyone is acting it appears to me that they are unaware of the events that happened in Helgen.

Suddenly I realize Brii is no longer beside me. It takes me a minute before I finally spot her off to the left talking with a redguard woman who appears to be closing up her blacksmith shop. As I approach I hear the end of their conversation. "Really? That would be great, thank you."

"Not a problem, just give me a moment to put this stuff inside." The woman replies back, walking away with a pile of tools in her arms.

"She's going to show us to the inn." Brii explains in a low voice. "I figured it would be best to get to know some of the towns people now. Just so happens her and her husband are already heading to the inn to grab a few drinks."

I merely nod and wait patiently. A few minutes later a man walks out the door. The sheer size of him makes me wonder how he even fit through the door without having to open both of them. The man, a true Nord by his people's standards, is broad, all muscle and no fat. The size of his arms is easily wider then my own waist, though the fact that I probably still appear to be starved and malnourished doesn't help.

"You must be Sibrii." He says in his deep, Nordic drawl. "And who's your friend?"

I swear I feel like a little kid getting yelled at by the Jarl, the man scares me that much. I smile back at him trying to keep my eyes from growing as big as the shield on his back. He notices my discomfort and laughs, patting me on the back with his massive, beefy hand.

"Dear, don't scare the poor child, Ulfberth." His wife calls out as she locks the shop doors.

We make our way to the inn, Sibrii in an all-out conversation with the odd-ball couple while I lag a little in the back taking in the small town. As we pass by guards I subconsciously turn my face away, more out of habit than anything else. Sibrii takes no notice as she engages into a deep conversation with Adrianne.

As we enter the inn it makes me feel like I'm back home, the town drunkards all just arriving and ready to get their fill of mead while the tavern staff prepares for a long night ahead of them. I notice the hungry look in Sibrii's eyes as she spots a random townsperson greedily gulping down a bottle of the famous Honeybrew mead. I refrain from making a rude comment and merely flinch at the crude alcoholic smell. Years ago I tried it but learned early on it's an acquired taste, one that I have little to no desire in.

I make myself comfortable in a corner table and watch the night go on. I hear little news from the other towns folk other than the fact that the Jarl is having difficulty with one of his children, but that little piece of information is useless to me as I have no luck nor skills with the little rats. I pick at my food and watch as Sibrii downs her fifth mead, successfully winning a small handful of coins for someone fool enough to challenge her to a drinking contest, then watch in amazement as she starts on a sixth bottle.

I simply roll my eyes and debate on whether or not I'm ready to go up to the room we rented for the night and get some sleep. Before I have the chance to make up my mind the Redguard maid, whose name escapes me, places a small keg down in front of me. I merely look at her with a questionable gaze.

"Courtesy of the man in the corner." She states in an irritated voice, pointing to a rather shady looking Imperial who has taken up residency at a table across the room. "If I were you I would steer clear of him."

I murmur my thanks without once taking my eyes off the man. I know him. The face may have aged a bit but the hungry eyes and sly smile are the same. Inside I am shocked to see him but outside I hold a completely blank, almost bored, expression. He makes a motion with his head telling me to follow him. After a moment I give a slight nod telling him I understand and watch as he gets up, leaves money on his table, and walks out the back door of the inn. I merely sit in my seat and watch as Brii sings along to a round of Raggard the Red

**A/N**

I'm sorry! I know I haven't updated in a while. School finals are coming up soon and I have a lot of projects to do. But I've been finding a little time(and inspiration) lately so hopefully I'm be getting back onto a set updating schedule.

I feel this Chapter was more of a series of drabbles, and I'm sorry ._. It was required for their character development(or my attempt at it).

Btw, if you're wondering, Sibrii's dress is the red blacksmith dress without the apron, and Atala's is a bit like that one common green dress, but with a closed skirt, higher neckline, longer sleeves, and no white. It's also one piece instead of two. Perhaps I'll sketch it up later.

Also, can someone tell me if I'm going to fast/slow? Constructive Criticism would also be highly welcomed as I, like most writers, write fanfics so that I may get better. I want to publish my own book one day.

Action soon, I promise! Next chapter will have action if all goes as planned.

Lok, Thu'um, my friends.

~Crystal


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